Skip to main content

Here we go... another no

The pregnancy blood test was negative.

And so far... I'm oddly unaffected. Blunted perhaps. My dad said "if I were you I'd be out howling" (really dad? I don't think I've ever seen him cry. But it's sweet that he shows such empathy). My friends are concerned about how upset I must be.

Maybe it will just hit me later... which is definitely a me kind of way to take bad news. Yes, maybe it will hit. But maybe it's just a long accumulation of pain that I've been living with for years and maybe that pain just hasn't really been made any bigger by another 'no'. The situation just is what it is.

I'm thinking that possibly the way I'm feeling... a kind of numb acceptance... indicates that it's time to get off the dizzying IVF merry-go-round. I don't have enough hope in the process working for me to keep investing in it. It seems pointless for our situation. And expensive. And draining.  It feels like it has way more potential to zap me of my liveliness than to create a life.

And you know what? the idea of stopping IVF actually brings with it a level of relief.

So soon it will be on to the next chapter I guess. We will start to work out whether or not we go into the land of donor options or go the child-free life. But til then, probably just a bit of quiet time to enjoy staying still.

Comments

  1. Sending you so much love. I am very nearly in this same space, and I understand that feeling of relief. No advice, no suggestions, just understanding and good thoughts coming your way.

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm really sorry to read this - and sorry I missed it too. And yes, relief is definitely one of the emotions we feel when we step off the treadmill/merry-go-round/rollercoaster. It's a good emotion. One that allows you to see hope in the future, even if it is hope for something different.

    ReplyDelete
  3. I'm so sorry to hear that you faced another "no." You sound so healthy with your thoughts on how you have met this "no" -- that IVF is no longer a hopeful space. It took me a really long time to get to that point, even though looking back I can see that I'd hit that point long before I got off the ride, to my detriment. I wish you all the best as you think on what's next -- and my wish is that all of your options bring you a sense of hope and peace for the future.

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

the stories that are out there

It seems to me that the happy-ending story that is so often "out there" about infertility is this: "Here is a couple who struggled and struggled to have kids, and then, finally, they had a baby. The end"... I think something about this story feels like a lack of honouring of the losses felt along the way for infertile couples. I know life goes on, and I know it does no one any good at all to get stuck in grief or pain. But surely there is some kind of transition for people to adjust from infertility to parenthood? Maybe there is a certain loss that is always felt? Transitioning to parenthood seems like it would be a hard process following infertility battles, and different somehow from a "normal fertility" transition to parenthood which I am sure would be hard enough (and I think is spoken about a lot). Something about the "...and then they had a baby" part of the story seems a bit dismissive about the infertility dramas, or gives a message of-...

belonging or be longing somewhere

I heard a great radio segment the other day on the importance of belonging.  Belonging is a pretty core and pretty basic human need I would say, and we certainly don't feel great, in fact we probably do things like turn to drugs and alcohol or other addictions or avoidant behaviours, when we don't have a strong sense of belonging somewhere in the world. These notions of belonging got me thinking about the infertility/trying to conceive journey. I guess getting online and reading and writing a blog has been all about gaining a better sense of belonging in this process. But even in this lovely online world there is a sad kind of aspect to it that... some people move on to the world of having kids and it doesn't feel like I "Belong" with them in the same sense. Some move on to have no kids, but as I am still trying to have kids, in a sense, don't "belong" there either. I can perhaps feel that I belong wholeheartedly with other people in my position, bu...

it's invisible

I met up with a group of friends on the weekend, an old group I haven’t seen for ages, who do not know about my fertility struggles. They’ve all reproduced, in fact, the air was thick with fecundity, and children were running about everywhere mostly at knee height.  It was a situation that made it obvious...  we’re missing something… fertility, a child. Someone, in a harmless enough way, said something about babies and sleep deprivation, then a throwaway remark to us “… and that’s why these guys don’t have kids”…   Oh y es, that's funny. True, sleeping is quite wonderful and yes we get plenty of it. I chose to smile and laugh. I didn’t show the grief, because the grief is invisible anyway... just like my child... and the grief may be unnecessary because I don’t even know if I am supposed to be grieving, because maybe our missing child will miraculously show up one day.